


And You'll Blow Us All Away

by surabayuh



Series: legacy (a garden you never get to see) [3]
Category: Avengers: Endgame (2019), Avengers: Infinity War (2018), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: And Morgan is So Loved, Avengers: Endgame Canon Compliant, Gen, Harley and Peter are Good Co-Brothers, In Which Tony Stark Is a Good Dad to His Children Even in Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 08:39:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18617098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surabayuh/pseuds/surabayuh
Summary: The face of her grandfather and father were hung at the Wall of Science at the top of the whiteboard, their eyes piercing through her.She felt like her insides were eating her alive, felt her throat was closing up, the word "Child Prodigy" and "Generational Genius" and "C" spinning in her head.She couldn't take it.





	And You'll Blow Us All Away

Howard Stark had been a machine mastermind. Tony Stark even _more_ ; a child prodigy whose smarts were only matched with a handful of people on earth. If the Stark bloodline were known for one thing, is that they produce technological geniuses—scientists and inventors who would always be ready to present the world their latest, most groundbreaking creations. 

So when Morgan received back the results of her Physics 101 midterms with a red _C_ at the top of paper, a little something in her died inside. 

Hurriedly, she stuffed back the paper into her bag, not mindful of it being crumpled. She'd get rid of it, she thought, just like she got rid of the other results for her science-related tests she seemed to barely pass lately. It wasn't even because she  _didn't_ study, because if it was then it might had been easier  to stomach. No, Morgan pulled an all-nighter sometimes just to understand a single mathematical formula, and sometimes halted her weekend plans just to make sure that she can get that chemistry questionnaire _right._ Morgan showed up for after-classes, asked all the questions she could think of to the teachers, perhaps up to the point where she  _annoys_ them.  

Morgan put more effort to this more than anything else; to the science and technology her dad had loved. And yet the red _C_ Test crumpled at the bottom of her bag was screaming at her that it wasn't enough. That she wasn't  _enough_. 

The face of her grandfather and  _father_ were hung at the Wall of Science at the top of the whiteboard, their eyes piercing through her. 

She couldn't take it. 

“Yes, Miss Stark?” Asked Mrs. Tanner, narrowing her eyes when Morgan's hand shot up.  

“Can I be excused?” Morgan spluttered, her words rushed, “I'm not feeling really well,” Which was true, she  _wasn't_. She felt like her insides were eating her alive, felt her throat was closing up, the word  _Child Prodigy_ and  _Generational Genius_ and  _C_ spinning in her head.  

She barely waited for Mrs. Tanner's wary nod of approval before she grabbed her bag, slung it over one shoulder, and l _eft._  

When the door closed, Morgan felt like an even more of a failure. 

* * *

 “ **Peter,** ”  

“Yeah, Karen?” Said Peter, not looking up from his desk. He was designing the latest Stark Smart Temperature-Regulator. It won't even use HFCs in its operation, and it cuts entirely the carbon-remission. It would go along with the entire Home-Eco-Improvement line the Industry is currently producing. 

_"_ **i** **ncoming call from Morgan Stark, shoul** **d I take it?"**   

Peter paused, narrowing his eyes. He looked up to see the clock on the wall, it read 13.00.  _Shouldn't she be at class right now?_ “Yeah, Karen, ring her up.” 

Morgan’s face showed from the projector in front of him, her brown eyes squinting from the sunlight. Behind her were people, passing by, and she was obviously walking as she spoke, not sitting down. _Definitely not at school then._ “ _Are you busy_?” asked Morgan, rather urgently. 

Peter looked at the design on his table for a split second before pushing it away. “Never for you, no _._ ” He said, brandishing his most genuine smile. “What's up, Morgan?”  

Morgan opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. “ _I_ —” she said, frowning. Peter's smile faltered as she seemingly grew even more frustrated by the second. “ _Can_ _I come to your office?_ ” She blurted out, her speech rushed and a little bit desperate.  

Now Peter was frowning, too, because he'd rarely seen Morgan so upset. Not since— _well._ “Sure, Morgan.” He said, immediately. The effect was instantaneous; Morgan’s face immediately brightened with relief.  

“ _Thanks,_ _Petey_ _,_ ” She said, using the affectionate nickname she'd bestowed him since she was five  and declared him and Harley as her Honorary Big Brothers. " _Oh._ _And please don't tell mom._ ” 

Before Peter could say anything, the line was dead. 

“Well.” Peter said to himself. “That was strange.”  

* * *

 Harley was in the middle of explaining the newest recruits on how to assemble and set the latest model of the Stark Holo-Pad when FRIDAY’s voice abruptly interrupted him. " **I** **ncoming Call from Principal** **James** **on**."  

Narrowing his eyes, Harley asked back, “Who?” 

“ **Baby Boss' principal,** **Sir."**    

Harley was even more confused. He adjusted the earpiece as he walked away, his focus on the AI. “Why would Morgan’s principal call  _me?”_  

“ **I don't know, Sir. Should I reject him?"**    

Harley's brain racked a thousand miles a second. Morgan’s school was truly one of the best New York could offer, with proper teachers and even counselors to be able to aid the children. For a  principal to call Harley in a normal Thursday, it must had been important. “No, Fri, pick up.” He decided, quickly.  

A static, then a particularly anxious voice came into the channel. “ _Mrs. Stark?”_  

Harley frowned. “I'm sorry, no. This is Harley Keener.”  

“ _Oh.”_ The Principal went quiet. “ _My apologies. I was told that this_ _is_ _Morgan Stark's Guardian number._ _I must have dialed the wrong person—”_  

_Morgan,_ Harley's mind immediately clicked, _That little rascal must've put_ ** _my_** _number instead of her mom._ Oh, if Pepper found out, she'd be  _dead._ But Harley wasn't about to snitch, and he was more intrigued on the reasons of why her principal had needed to call her guardian at some regular afternoon. “No, no. I'm her older brother,” Harley immediately clarified, understanding fully well that the principal would probably be even  _more_ confused. 

After all, Iron Fam's extended-found-family members were strictly off-limits from the public. For all the world knew, Tony Stark had only one kid, when he in fact had  _three_. 

“ _Uh, alright.”_ Said Principal Jameson, clearly not convinced. “ _May I ask for Mrs. Stark's number instead? I think this is something she'd want to hear directly—”_  

“Pepper's on a meeting.” Harley immediately countered him, “Sorry. I mean Mrs. Stark. Mrs. Stark is currently in a really important meeting.” He added, “Whatever you want to tell her, you can tell me. I'll put on your message right away, as soon as possible, pronto.” 

A rustle were heard from the other side, then another static, before finally Principal Jameson spoke again. “ _Well, alright, Mr. Keener, sir. You see, um._ ” He sounded anxious, as if working himself to confess a sin, “ _There’s a situation concerning, uh, Miss Stark.”_ He  stuttered his way through informing him, “ _You see, sir, the school personnel have a reason to believe that Ms. Stark had, ah, ran away from school."_ He  _sounded_ like he was fidgeting as he continued, “ _I was very recently informed that this is possibly the_ ** _third_** _time for her to do so.”_  

Harley blinked; once, twice. “You telling me you lost my fourteen-year-old kid sister  _three times_.” He said, his voice calm and neutral—almost  _deadly._ “And only decided to inform me  _now?”_  

Any other kid, he might had been okay. Heck, even his  _biological sister_ skipping school, he'd be okay. But Morgan wasn't any kid—she was the daughter  of a man practically worshiped as the hero of the New World, and a woman holding one of the most powerful tech industry in the world. She was, quite literally, a walking, skipping, red-gold haired target for her parents’ enemies and the general asshole population seeking their shot to blackmail the Stark family. To know that she'd been  _gone_ twisted something in his gut. 

_“Well,_ _Mr. Keener, that isn't exactly fair—”_  

“I'd shut up if I were you, now, Mr. Jameson.” Said Harley, curtly. “Thank you for the information. We'll be in touch.” He all but snapped the last line before cutting the connection.  

StarkPad assembly all forgotten, he rushed out from the room. “FRIDAY, call Morgan.” He instructed, walking to the elevator. 

**“Calling Baby Boss, now.”**  

The ringing served as a ticking time as he paced around the elevator. “Come on, Squirt, pick up, pick up…” 

The elevator dinged and opened its door to the lobby, and Harley was already half-running to the exit when the periphery of his eyes spotted something; a dyed red-golden hair he'd known anywhere. 

“Morgan!”  

The teen stopped walking, then turned, surprised. “Harley,” She said, immediately approaching him. Harley could see the frown on her face, and the sadness she couldn't quite replace.  

He wanted to ask her,  _where had you been? Why did you skip class? Do you have any idea of how dangerous it is for you to_ _just Disappear Like That?_  

Instead he said, “You gave the school my phone number.” 

Morgan shrugged. “Old trick. They said to put  _a_ guardian, not a  _parental_ guardian. So,” She grinned, weakly, “Figured you'd be the most chill person out of the assortments that are my adult figures in life whenever informed with my shenanigans.” She said, a light quip that did not quite reach her eyes.  

Harley crossed his arms over his chest. “Not about disappearing from school, I'm not.” He told her, sternly. “What on earth possesses you to come here instead, anyway? On good days Pepper would be  _happy_ if you even want to set foot at the front Display Museum sector.” And it was true; Morgan was never particularly fascinated with the technological marvel showcased on the Permanent Stark Expo. 

Something in his words made Morgan shift, and he immediately felt the guilt as her eye grew even dimmer. “I know,” she said, and her tone wasn't out of mischief, as she usually spoke; it was out of defeat, and maybe even self resentment. “I just… I need to see Peter.” She said, before adding. “Oh. Wait. Hold on. you, too.” She added. 

Raising  his eyebrows, Harley asked, “and what is it so important that you can't wait to meet us until after school-hours?” 

At this, Morgan sighed, and there it was again; the defeat Harley saw lingering in her. “I need you guys to teach me Physics 101.”  

* * *

 Morgan could see the confusion in her brothers' eyes. 

“I mean,” Peter said, “Sure, but,” He exchanged looks with Harley. 

“Don't you get this type of stuff in school?” Harley finished the sentence.  

“Yeah, but not really,” Morgan replied, already opening a new page on her binder. “I need an extra tutoring lesson.” She added, voice grew quieter in the progression of each words. Atop Peter's desk there was this selfie he had with Tony—with _daddy—_ back when he was younger, and she looked away when she came into eye contact with the framed picture. 

_Your father built_ _his first robot when he was four._  

_He built a metal suit in the middle of a desert_ _with scraps._  

_He created an independent conscience_ _. An android._  

_He solved the time-machine equation in just one night._  

“So you skipped school, to get schooled?” Peter asked, before grinning. “Ha. That's a pun.” He and Harley high-fived. Morgan, involuntarily, rolled her eyes at her brothers' antics. 

“Ha, Ha, very funny.” She said, “Just roll with it, alright? I just,” Morgan said, head low, “really need this.” She rummaged through her bag and picked up the crumpled paper. Slowly, she unraveled the folds and smoothed the wrinkles, her heart heavy and shameful as she showed Peter and Harley what she got in her test. 

Perhaps it was her quiet mumble, or her sad face, or the embarrassing C on the already-worn paper, but Peter and Harley stopped asking, and instead took a seat each next to hers before taking the first question's equation. “Oh, okay,” Peter said, reading it. “This is easy. Just calculate the acceleration and then…” 

It was two hours later, with even FRIDAY and Karen displaying actual diagrams and simulations for Morgan to understand, and  _yet,_  while Morgan understood the basics and how to count and analyze the questions, she still couldn't feel  like she was  _connected,_ per se. She didn't feel like she had this  _huge_ epiphany and could suddenly take every scientific problems with a stride and succeed. 

And Stark children, they usually take every scientific problems with a stride. 

Morgan looked at her daddy's eyes at the frames picture again. 

_Maguna_ _,_  she remembered him calling her  softly to the living room at the house by the lake,  _come here, I just made you new toys_.  Morgan remembered, then, that the toys had  _moved;_ all she had to do was just to narrate the story that she wanted and they would do exactly as she said.  

She played with the toys until two hours to midnight, sitting on her daddy's lap, she remembered. 

_You like it, Bambina?_  

_Yeah, Daddy!_  

_Good,_ said Daddy, beaming with pride and joy,  _I'm_ _gonna_ _make you a million of toys just to keep that happy face._  

A stifled choke escaped her mouth. 

“…Morgan?” Harley was the first time to notice that. Morgan waved a hand, using the other to press her palm into her mouth, trying to hold back. But the dam had broke, and now she could feel tears running down her face. “Hey, Squirt, are you okay?” He said, slinging an arm over her and leaning over, face concerned. 

“Yeah,” She said, her voice thick and croaky and definitely not okay. “Let’s just—continue, okay?” 

Beside her, Peter frowned. “Hey, no,” He said, pushing the books and papers aside. “Morgan, if you're upset about something, you should tell us.” He said, softly. Morgan shook her head and tried to pull back the books, stubbornly. “Morgan—” 

“I think that's enough physics today—” Harley intercepted. 

"No, let's keep going." Morgan shook her head, her eyes glassy as she glared at the display before her.

"Squirt, we've been at it for two hours, you deserve a break-"

“I'm  _not_ a  _genius_!” Morgan snapped, tears still running down her eyes. “I'm not a fucking genius, you  _know?!”_ She pressed down a knuckle to her lips. “I look at these numbers and equations and symbols and I  _can't_ solve it with  _just_ _a look_ _,_ like the way you two does. _”_ She choked, brokenly, “And I'm  _supposed_ to do _that,_ because _—”_   

_Daddy, why you so smart?_  

Her dad had chuckled at that, caressing her head softly.  _W_ _ell, I just am,_ _Maguna_ _,_ he had said,  _now w_ _hy do you ask?_  

_Cuz_ _I_ _wanna_ _be smart just like you, daddy,_ She had answered,  _and I_ _wanna_ _know how so—_  

“I want to make  _him_ proud,” Morgan finished, miserably. “But I can't, no matter how hard I tried I just  _can't—”_  

She broke down to sobs. 

Some Stark she was. 

Harley caressed her hair, “Squirt,” He said, gently, “Hey, Squirt, look at me please?” He tilted her chin up to face him. “There's that pretty face,” His voice soothed her, softly, as she tucked her falling bangs behind her ears. Morgan snorted, rather involuntarily, and she could feel some of her crying-snot leaking.  _Some pretty face,_ she thought. “You don't need to be a  _genius_ for your dad to be proud of you.”  Harley spoke.  “The day you were born, he showed  me _you_ , wailing, flailing, red-skinned, with the brightest pride showing on his face.” He smiled at the memory, “and that look had never since left him.” 

_Daddy, I drew you a picture!_  

She was waving the paper to his side, and Tony immediately picked it up.  _O_ _h, wow_ _, Bambina,_ He said, kneeling down to her level,  _This is really beautiful._ _I love it_ _so much_. 

_This much, daddy?_ Morgan extended all of her fingers. 

_And more!_ He had replied, smooching her for kisses before pinning the picture on the fridge.  

“Besides,” Peter added, after Morgan’s sobs had quieted. “ _Genius_ is not limited to only the field of science. It can be other things; law, politics, business, arts , literacy…” he listed, “and aren't you good at that? aren't you  _awesome_ at drawing and painting things?” He asked, softly.  

Morgan turned at him, her red-rimmed eyes narrowing. 

“And,” Harley added, “You're like, really good with finding legal loopholes and fixing it when it comes to business contracts,” He said, “I've seen you help Pepper; you’re like, _Ruth Bader Ginsburg_ good.”  

“And,” Peter chimed in again, “You're really _great_ at negotiating people to get what you want,” He said, “Everytime you and Pepper negotiates, it's like a really civil, non-violent  _warfare_ because of how  _good_ you are.” 

“But not in science.” Morgan countered, miserably. “Not in a way that  _matters.”_  

Because it  _had_ to be  _science,_ it  _had_ to be  _technology_ ; how else was she going to  be honoring her daddy's memory? How else would she be able to feel closer to  _him_? 

“Morgan,” Said Peter, quietly, sadly. She could feel Harley and Peter exchanging looks behind her. “Hey, Squirt, c'mere,” he said, finally, pulling Morgan close to his chest. Harley hugged her too from the other side, and Morgan found herself smushed between her two brothers. 

“I'll ruin both of your suits.” Morgan mumbled, leaning closer. 

“We're rich now, we can buy a new one,” Said Harley, flippantly. Morgan laughed at that, a wet, choked laugh that got stuck on her throat. 

“I really miss him,” She whispered. 

“I know, Morgan,” Said Peter, and she felt a hand caressing her hair. “We miss him too.” 

* * *

 “ **Miss Morgan, may I interest you in a new recording?** ” 

It was nighttime, and Morgan was already turning off her lights when FRIDAY piped. The only light illuminating her room were those from her fairy lights, and the arc reactor lamp her dad made for her when she was four.  

“Huh?” Morgan narrowed her eyes, “But it's not Saturday, FRI.” In truth, it hadn’t been _Saturday_ in quite a while; Morgan couldn't remember exactly when was the last time she listened to the recordings. Probably two-three months ago. 

“ **Some exceptions can be made, Miss Morgan.”** Answered FRIDAY, “ **May I?** ”  

“Okay,” Morgan said, finally, straightening herself up. “Fire away, FRI.” 

A  _bzzt_ _,_ _bzzt_ sound, then a holographic display came out.  Tony Stark, with his tank top and pajama bottoms, were sitting at a lounge sofa, clearly exhausted. “ _Hi, there,_ _Future_ _Maguna,"_ He said, his tone full of warmth and affection that Morgan couldn't help but to whisper a small  _hi_ back.  “ _I just finished designing a time machine, which is,_ whew,” He dramatically wiped away a metaphorical sweat off his forehead. “ _Never again. This type of work is way too_ _fucking_ _heavy for my_ _frail back.”_  

Morgan snorted. That was one dollar to the swear jar. 

“ _Anyway,_ _I'm really tired, I was going to go straight to bed, and then,”_ He chuckled, " _Y_ _our mom called me, said_ _the present_ _you made another picture of me_ _and wanted to show it.”_ His smile was fond, and affectionate, “ _Let me tell you,_ _Maguna_ _, it was the_ **_best_ ** _drawing I have ever seen,”_ He spoke, softly. 

“You're lying,” Morgan quipped, quietly, because there is just _no way_ that a five year old’s crayon scribbles could top any other paintings in the entire world. “But thanks.” 

“ _And don't you dare say that I'm lying, now, young lady, because I'm not.”_ Tony continued, as if he could  _hear_ her doubting herself. “ _Your drawings are so vivid and vibrant, and sometimes it’s the only thing cheering me up when I’m stuck and these guys,”_ He  rolled his eyes then  made a face, _“_ _are being a pain in the ass.”_ That was another dollar to the swear jar.  “ _It reminds me of hope, of home.”_  

Morgan’s eyes were starting to brim with tears.  

“ _You really like to draw, bambina. Besides tricking us into giving you what you want, which is, by the way, amazing talent because_ whew,  _I could have used some of your skills to negotiate with these fossils,”_ He grinned, and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. Morgan could hear a faint,  _Hey!_ On the background. “ _And_ _everytime_ _I see you, drawing, babbling, writing, I_ _feel so much_ **_joy,”_ ** He said, his eyes somehow landing onto her form, looking at her with the kindest, softest gaze. “ _You make me so proud,_ _Maguna_ _. Every time. Every picture. Every negotiation won. Every tea party and princess and dragons time, you, Mi_ _Bella_ _Bambina_ _, are my_ _source of happiness._ _”_ He said, and Morgan leaned closer, eyes glassy. “ _You and your mother, both.”_  

Morgan wiped her eyes with her sleeve, hugging her knees closer. “I miss you,” She whispered. 

“ _I miss you,_ _Maguna_ _.”_ He echoed. “ _And I just want you to be happy. Always be happy.”_ He smiled, warmly, and Morgan  cried harder. “ _Every single thing that you do,_ _it prides me, Mi Bambina. So never, ever doubt yourself, okay?”_ He spoke, his raspy voice a music to her ears. “ _I'm so, so, proud of you, My baby girl.”_  

His hand was raised, as if to touch her, and Morgan leaned over hers—flesh and virtual, living and dead, past and present, yet somehow connected. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “Thank you  _so much.”_  

“ _I love you, Morgan H. Stark,”_ Said Tony warmly. “ _I love you 3000.”_  

Morgan smiled, amidst the tears. “I love you 3000 too, daddy,” She said. 

When she slept that night, her chest felt lighter, and she dreamed of a man with a trimmed goatee, holding her hand and laughing together with her. 

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up at fragilefangirl.tumblr.com for sobbing sessions


End file.
